The smell of metal and rain
by Anemonenfisch
Summary: Sumo, for the record, does normally not like people that are crashing through the window. But this one turns out to be alright. Or, dogs are really better humans. Period. Because they don't really care what color you bleed.


A.N. English is not my first language, but I tried. Also, I like to write from the perspective of animals, apparently. I mean, I wrote a thing about Buttercup once. So, alternative title could be: Dogs aren't racist.

* * *

Connor crashes into their lives, as his human always likes to tell people.

"He just appeared someday and then refused to leave", he says, sometimes annoyed, sometimes with a small smile hidden behind his beard. It's a metaphor, clearly. Only, Connor really came crashing into Sumos life. Literally. His owner always jokes around, that Sumo would accept anyone that would feed him at least three meals a day, but Sumo is a dog first, and dogs don't like people crashing into their homes.

Just this one. This one is okay, even considering the rude first meeting the two had. Which doesn't mean that Connor is not a bit weird.

He smells weird and sounds strange like nothing Sumo is used to. His owner smells like rain, like whiskey on his bad days and beer in his slightly brighter moments and like sweat, gunpowder and cheap cologne mixed together and inked into his skin. And underneath Sumo could smell him, just the human, and hear his heartbeat and feel the warmth of blood rushing under skin. He smells like home like the turned on TV with flashy images playing, like late night walks and police sirens in the distance. Connor smells like a fence.

Connor smells like rain if it rains and only if it rains. He smells like food, he smells like mud, like smoke, like nicotine. He carries the world in the pockets and wrinkles of his jacket, but underneath it all, he smells like a fence and there's no warmth in his fingertips. It itches in the dog's nose and is carefully memorized in his brain, the way Connor smells of nothing and everything at once, the way he moves and talks. All so similar to his own human, to everyone they pass on their walk.

Maybe it should have bothered Sumo longer than this split second where he trapped this strange thing under him until it held up his palms and called him by his name.

 _"Hey ... Sumo. I'm your friend._ "

So Connor smells like metal underneath everything else and has a flashing thing on the side of his head, but that's okay. He's nice, he cleans sometimes, pets Sumo regularly, attempts to cook and Hank smells of only cheap cologne not whiskey more regularly.

Sumo doesn't like the smell of whiskey. He doesn't like the smell of sadness that clung to the house, to his human, for a very long time. That's another thing about Connor. He doesn't smell of anything.

Which is a bit unnerving, because Sumo likes people smelling happy. But whenever he pushes his nose into the others hand, there's just the smell of fences all the way buried by the outside world. What would Connor smell like, if he was happy?

Sumo does not fully grasp the concept of this absence of smell. But he adapts. Because he normally doesn't like people that come crashing through windows, but this one is fine. This one can stay. He wants this one to stay. So he learns. Like his human does. His human really unlearned how to live with another person in the same house. It's evident in the way he starts to curse when Connor is awake earlier than noon.

So, if Connor is happy, he tilts his head a fraction more to the right and his voice changes just enough for dog ears to catch the slightly warmer notes that are mixed in. If Connor is happy, his fingers don't drum on Sumos stomach when he pets him. If Connor is happy he smiles.

If Connor is sad, he's tense. His fingers will rest unmovingly on Sumos stomach. He won't observe his surrounding.

If Connor is nervous, he will flick that silver thing between his fingers, will drum an unknown rhythm on Sumos stomach.

If Connor is nervous, Sumo will snap after that silver thing, destroying the pattern his friend likes to get lost in. If Connor is sad, Sumo licks his face until he's giggling.

Maybe Connor doesn't smell, but Sumo can learn and observe. Connor makes them happier. It's only fair to return this favour.


End file.
